


Little Monster

by hunted



Series: Clown Stuff [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (not due to sexual injuries... due to murder), Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Begging, Blood and Gore, Bodily Fluids, British English, Chest Binding, Clowns, Creampie, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Doggy Style, Don't Like Don't Read, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face Paint, Face Painting, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Hypnotism, Kinda, Loss of Virginity, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Molestation, Monsters, Murder, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Other, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Rough Sex, Trans Male Character, Transformation, Violence, Virginity, coulrophilia, if that matters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: A clown chooses its newest victim; a young trans guy who is too innocent for his own good....The author is a trans man. All the necessary warnings are tagged, and if you will be (understandably) triggered by this story, please do not read it. There is more information about BDSM, consent, and roleplay in the notes.Do not re-upload this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Clown, Original Male Character/Monster
Series: Clown Stuff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812697
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Little Monster

**Author's Note:**

> I do not condone non-consensual sex. This is just a sexual fantasy. If you would like to understand why certain people have dark fantasies, see [this article](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/). It addresses the kinks of cis women, but people across every demographic have dark sexual fantasies, sometimes as a way to heal from trauma. Everyone's human autonomy should be respected in all cases. If you ever intend to explore BDSM with your partner(s), you must ensure you are proceeding [safely](http://www.bdsmwiki.info/BDSM_101), and with the full consent of everyone involved. Just because you _can_ engage with non-con fantasies healthily, does not mean you automatically _are_ doing so. If you have unhealthy or harmful sexual tendencies, go see a therapist ASAP.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I write all kinds of FTM stories. I write [straight trans men](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079508/chapters/63431953), [dominant trans men](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667837), and trans men of [all ethnicities](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857451/chapters/54631726). I do not condone the fetishisation of trans guys. Just because some such men have submissive tendencies, does not mean cis people can justify infantilising us. If you want to write trans men respectfully, even in kink-heavy works, please refer to [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). Just because this is a kinky story doesn't mean I view all trans men as being weak, helpless, or submissive. We're all different, just like cis men. This rendition of an AFAB guy is a fantastical work of fiction, nothing more. **Don't feminise trans guys in every fic you write. Don't get on Grindr and treat trans men like sex objects. We're just men. We're not a fetish.**  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I use the words c*nt and cl*t to describe this trans man's genitals. Many of my other works avoid AFAB language entirely, so if that will make you more comfortable, please go read those stories instead. Many of my other works are also less, y'know, disturbing.

This had all started a year ago, when the circus last visited.

Kade had been attending the event with his friends. He remembered the warm summer night, rich festival sausages nestled in soft white bread, sugary pink fairy floss spun expertly around wooden sticks. He remembered flavours dancing on his tongue, the laughter of his friends carried on the air, joy bursting in his belly. All these joyous things and more remained in his mind, vividly coloured and entwined with the richest of scents.

But, more importantly, he remembered the clown.

It had walked up to him midway through the night, when he had gotten separated from his friends. Jostled and pushed by the seemingly endless crowd, Kade had found himself trapped still, unable to turn around and go against the tide of people, unable to walk forward past the clown. It had a broad, creepy smile, a vivid red grin painted over its white cheeks. It watched him for a solid minute, not looking away from him, cartoonish red nose somehow emphasising how terrifying this moment was. Then, with a sudden flourish that had startled Kade and caused him to flinch backwards, the clown produced a hideously bright bunch of flowers.

“Heehee! What a _pretty_ boy you are,” the clown giggled, its voice a strange mix of a crocodile’s growl and a child’s shriek, holding the flowers forward like a shy kid giving their crush a gift, “Would you like some flowers?”

“Um,” Kade had replied shakily after a moment, voice catching in his throat, “N- No thank you.”

The clown had pouted dramatically, and with an equally sudden flourish, tucked the flowers back beneath its polka-dotted jacket. Kade flinched again. He'd never seen an adult act in such a juvenile way. He supposed this was what clowns were expected to be like. Ridiculous and over-the-top. But this all felt far too extreme. Like the clown was going to snap any minute and whip out a knife. It seemed to vibrate in place, humming with demented excitement.

“I should- I should go back and find my friends-”

“Oh no, no! Not yet!”

“But-“

“What’s a circus without some face paint! Let’s get you _fixed up,_ young man!”

It had grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him away. Kade had gone along, terrified, not used to strangers so directly touching him. The clown had taken him to a private tent. Sat him down in a chair, stood tall above him, producing a tub of white paint from a nearby cabinet. Kade had been too frightened to refuse, and when the clown’s fingers touched upon his cheek, he trembled at the sensation. The second the pale liquid touched him, it was like a crackle of electricity that hummed through his face, marking him in ways he could not comprehend. His base human instincts told him something was very, very wrong.

He had sat there in silence as the clown painted him. The facepaint felt like sunscreen, oddly oily and thick, but it dried solid. Kade’s skin felt like it was being tugged and pinched, frozen in place. He looked up at the clown’s unceasing grin and understood better why clown’s faces were so frighteningly unmoving. His head was spinning, heat beating fast, a toxic mix of terror and strange excitement filling him. He was overwhelmed by emotion, and the clown’s eyes were sparkling like a storm beneath its powerful brow, as if it knew precisely what it was doing to the boy.

It probably only took ten minutes, though Kade felt it took an eternity. With powerful, deliberate swipes of its hands, the clown turned Kade’s face a pale, disturbing white. It then painted a cherry red smile over Kade’s mouth, the silky bristles of a brush tickling tender lips. Their faces were so close, and Kade had never felt more emotion than he did that night. He could feel the clown’s breaths gently huffing against his face, the human-looking creature leering over him. He wanted to get up and flee. Carnival folks painted people’s faces all the time, but this felt wrong. This felt weird. The clown hadn’t taken no for an answer. Just dragged him away, like it was intent on having him as it wished. Nobody had ever just touched him like this before. They were in a secluded tent, so close to the crowds, yet so isolated. Like the clown could do anything to him, and nobody would know.

When it was done, a red spongey sphere was sat upon the tip of Kade’s nose. The clown held up a small mirror, and Kade stared blankly at his reflection. He saw a clown with big, beseeching eyes. He didn’t see himself.

His lips came unstuck when he opened his mouth, paint crusted.

“My friends won’t recognise me,” he had whispered, as though that was the weirdest part about this.

The clown had giggled. That strange, haunting sound, high-pitched enthusiasm paired with gravelly tones. Kade had shrunk in the seat when the clown leaned down further, bracing each hand on the arms of the chair. Kade heard his own breaths hitching, fear climbing as the clown rubbed its face against Kade’s cheek. It licked his cheekbone like a lion considering its victim, like it wanted to taste the paint, savour its work. Kade felt lightheaded.

"Stop it," he'd helplessly asked.

"You are divine," came the strange, whispered reply, lips at Kade's ear, "Yearning to be eaten, aren't you?"

Kade's knees were pressed hard together where he sat, and to his humiliated shock, he could feel wetness blooming in his underwear. Not urine. He was wet with anticipation. The fear was turning him on.

“Please,” he began, not knowing what he wanted to say.

"Have you ever been made to feel pleasure?"

"Pl... Pleasure...?"

"Arousal, boy. Sex. Do you know what that is like?"

"N- No, what- Why would you ask that?"

The clown hummed happily. Then it stood up, eyes trained on the boy. Like it knew what it had done, and it was pleased to have seared itself into the landscape of Kade’s sexual awakening.

“My, my,” it said happily, “You look _fantastic_. Go find your friends. Show them your new face.”

***

Now, a year later, Kade was sitting in his bedroom. The young man was illuminated only by a warm bedside lamp, orange tones colouring his skin. His heart was fluttering like a bird against the underside of his ribcage, and he was experiencing an excitement so profound he felt he could burst through the ceiling and take off into the night sky. He was sitting before a mounted mirror on the wall, desk in front of him littered with deliberately chosen products. He had done this only occasionally, at first. Motivated by curiosity, unable to stop thinking about that night. Fear turned to interest, which turned to obsession. Within no time at all he was doing this every night. He couldn't come unless he got dressed up, and once he transformed, the arousal was uncontrollable. It was an addiction.

He watched his reflection as he painted himself beyond recognition. He thought about the first time he had done this. He thought about the subsequent times, when the fear turned into something else. The first time he had lay back in bed, touching himself, thinking of that clown’s horrifying, arresting presence. The way it had looked at him, like he was a piece of meat; prey to be claimed, infected with the carnival’s cheery depravity.

He was wearing his binder while he painted his face. He thought that, maybe, his clown obsession was somewhat linked to his transition. He’d started Testosterone a few months ago, and the path to getting there had been dicey at best. Conflict, screaming arguments, judgemental parents, and lost friends. But when he was a clown, none of that mattered.

And he was so fucking horny. He wanted to touch himself all the time, but the dysphoria fucked with his brain, whispered lies of femaleness and deception. The clown façade hid him from those terrible thoughts, turned him into something else. Someone else. He could own his body. Touch it freely.

The clown had called him _pretty boy_. _Young man_. He’d been presenting as a guy back then, but usually was considered a cute tomboy, which he fucking hated. Somehow, the circus creature had known. Had seen him for what he was, despite his hunched shoulders and the bad posture which didn’t quite manage to conceal an unbound chest. Kade wanted to find that clown again. As his new self. As a recruit of the circus. Something had called to him, that first night. Now, he was ready to be embraced by it.

In the mostly-dark room, he watched himself. Smiled wide, the stretch of his mouth matching the red grin he had applied, eyes sparkling with delight. He pulled the band off his head, which had been keeping his hair pinned back. Curls flopped down onto his brow, flecks of white sticking to dark strands. That was fine. He liked it a bit messy. A bit chaotic. Throughout the rest of his life, he had to be in control. He had to answer invasive questions, he had to beg for paperwork to be submitted faster, he had fill out forms and tick _female_ with bile in his throat, resenting the system which trapped him in this body, in this life. He knew he would achieve his happiness eventually, but in the meantime, he needed an escape. And this was it.

Getting dressed up like this was leaving normal Kade behind, just for the night. He was nameless, faceless, wild, and unrestrained. Silly and wild and odd and uncaring. The mad little clown. He stood from his chair and walked over to the bed, where the polka-dotted clown suit was carefully folded. Standing there, in his boxers and a tight white binder, he considered it, savouring the moment like it was foreplay.

Once dressed, Kade climbed out his window and walked to the circus.

He lived in a small town, so it didn’t take him long. Other people were walking the same direction as him, resulting in a mass pilgrimage through the dark streets, towards tinkling music and sparkling lights. Kade’s heart was beating so fast. He had been waiting for this night since his first encounter with that clown. He had dreamed of seeing that stranger again. Tonight, he hoped, they would meet. Sordid, sleazy delight made him skip faster down the street, the intensity of his desire almost frightening.

That clown had turned him into a monster.

Some nearby townspeople regarded him with smiles. He felt like a wolf among sheep.

Within no time at all he was strolling through the circus, snippets of laughter and voices and overlapping, musical tones overwhelming him. He felt like he was being swept away, hypnotised by the magic of the performance. His heart was hammering, that same sensation of fear and arousal stronger than ever before. He didn’t even know if he’d see that clown again. But something called to him, something itched at his skin and pulled him to this place, every step laden with intent. There was something different about this circus. It beckoned him like a curse, like a promise laced with danger.

He watched children skipping through the crowds with their parents, cheeks sticky with the residue of sugar, innocent among the throng. He watched their parents, most of them tired and haggard, nerves worn thin by the stress of watching their kid in a crowd. He watched carnival workers with cheery smiles and colourful costumes, gesturing animatedly to games and wares, drawing in wanderers. It was all so alive and vibrant, like a huge beating heart, the energy of the circus thrumming though every body which set foot within its boundaries.

But it wasn’t enough.

Kade wanted more, he wanted his clown. He wanted the reunion which had haunted his dreams and sweetened his nightmares. Everybody else was irrelevant. With a bounce to his gait, he strode through the circus, peering around eagerly. He didn’t see any clowns. For nearly half an hour he looked, and just when his excitement was starting to diminish, a palm landed squarely on his shoulder. Before he could turn around and see the person who had grabbed him, his other shoulder was seized, fingers digging into him, and he was yanked backwards into a tent. Striped canvas fabric flapped closed behind him, shutting him off from the crowd, but only barely.

He was spun around, still disorientated. He found himself staring, open-mouthed, at the clown.

It still looked the same. It had wild, glittering eyes, and a big grin. It wore the same polka-dot jacket and ridiculous red nose. Kade’s heart beat even harder, the sound of rushing blood filling his ears, hot bursts of pressure which made his cheeks pink beneath the white makeup. His groin throbbed, heat pooling in his gut.

“Oh, lovely boy,” the clown cooed, “You _returned_ to me. And how _gorgeous_ you look!”

Kade tried to control his breathing. Behind him, he could hear people walking and chatting, the canvas flap swaying a little every time a person passed. He should leave. He should walk out. But he knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

The clown smiled wider somehow, though Kade would have thought it impossible. He smiled back, though he was trembling. The hands were so heavy against him. Something inside him was screaming, _run away, run away while you still can,_ but he couldn't move from where he stood.

"It's you," he said uneasily, "You're- Are you the clown that I met last t-time...?"

"Oh, _absolutely_. Don't you recognise me?"

Kade swallowed thickly, thinking how terrifyingly unique this clown was, how he could never mistake any other human being for this nightmarish creature. He was scared. He didn't know whether he should stay or flee.

“I- I’ve been thinking of you,” he tried to say, voice catching, “Since that night, I-”

"Oh, I _know_ , I _know_ ,” the clown told him, voice dipping down lower, quiet like it was sharing a secret with Kade, “I’ve felt you _transforming_ , sweetness.”

“I- what?”

“Every dream, every nightmare, every _fantasy_. I felt it all. Did you feel me watching, young man?”

As the clown spoke, it moved closer. Any attempt Kade may have made to breathe slowly failed. He was almost hyperventilating. The clown leaned down, crushing their mouths together, its red nose bumping against Kade's cheek.

"Mmf!" Kade made a small squeak of surprise and instinctually tried to step backwards, but the clown held him still. Fingers dug cruelly into his skinny arms. He felt canvas against his back, the lack of a solid surface heightening the danger, the secrecy. Anyone could see them if he just twisted free and ran away.

He wasn’t certain of anything anymore. Maybe he’d gotten in over his head. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was the hot, wet slide of a stranger’s tongue, the clown licking into his mouth, making heat spark inside him in ways he’d never felt before. He felt so small, so dominated. The creature was so much taller than him, so imposing. He’d never kissed anyone before. He'd never been touched. Never done anything with anybody. He realised he had been keeping himself pure, without realising why.

"What's- What's your name?"

The clown seemed to giggle into his mouth. It didn't reply. Kade thought that he should know the name of the person who was kissing him--his very first kiss, after all–- but no reply was forthcoming. He gripped the front of the clown's shirt, seeking a kind of stability that still eluded him.

One of the hands disappeared from his shoulder. With his eyes closed, Kade couldn’t see where the hand moved to, and he jumped when fingers touched his hip. But they didn’t stay there long. Deftly, and without permission, the clown yanked down the waistband of his pants.

Kade gasped, “Wait, I-”

“Shh,” the clown told him, “This is what you wanted!”

"But I don't- Please stop, just-"

"No."

Kade wondered if the clown wanted to rape him. "Please-"

"Shh!"

“I’m a-”

“- virgin? Oh, _sweet_ Kade. I know!”

The sound of his own name sent a chill shivering through every inch of Kade’s body. He’d never told the clown his name. Which meant that this was real. The creature had been watching him. Moulding him from afar. He opened his eyes, looking with terror up at the grinning face of a clown, the kind of sight one would expect in a horror movie. The world seemed to slow down, fear bubbling up in his belly. The clown smiled wider, as though its cheeks might split in half.

"How- How do y-you know my-"

"I know _everything_."

The clown dove down to kiss him again, harder this time, holding one shoulder firmly in place; enough of a reminder that Kade knew he’d have to fight to escape. The thrill of danger and excitement filled him, fear only slightly receding as thick fingers curled inward, pressing hard against his cunt. He’d never been touched before, and despite his terror, it excited him. Testosterone had made him more sensitive, and the fabric of the clown’s gloves was rough, though quickly becoming damp from his slickness. He shook where he stood, like he was going to shatter from the intensity of it all.

"Wait, I can't... S- Stop, it's- it's too much-"

“Mm,” the clown hummed against his mouth, “I’ve seen you in your room. Touching yourself, _here_. Such a _good_ little clown!”

"Stop-"

"Give in, dear boy. You _know_ that you want this."

"I'm- I'm not sure anymore, please just wait-"

"Absolutely not."

"Stop, please-"

"Shh, shh."

Kade panted. He lifted his arms, clinging to the clown for fear of falling over. He was aggressively kissed, fingers rubbing him insistently and without mercy for his inexperience. The clown seemed manic, excited to be getting its hands on him. It stroked his clit with a broad thumb, eased two fingers in and out of his cunt. He wanted to cry, but didn't know why. He was so confused. He wanted this, but equally, wanted it all to stop.

"Please, wait, wait-"

"No."

"I just need-"

"What?"

"I need, I- I need to know-"

"Yes, pretty little thing?"

“How were you watching me? How did you- how did you know?"

“Shh, shh. Don't question that, my love! You'll ruin the _fun_. And clowns are all about fun! You want to be one of us, don't you?"

Kade shuddered. "But-"

"Answer the question."

"Y- Yes."

"You wanted this, didn't you?"

"I... Yes- But what's-"

"You wanted me to touch you," the clown's voice deepened again, seeming to weave itself through Kade's mind, provoking a sensation of visceral obedience, "You wanted me to touch you like _this_ , right?"

Kade felt like his mind was melting. He had come here wanting this. He had wanted everything that was happening, for an entire year. That was all he could focus on. He wanted to be the mad little clown of this circus. He wanted to join their ranks.

"Yeah," he said again, this time with a breathy, aroused voice, "Yeah, I want... I- I want it..."

"You're hungry for it."

"I'm... I'm hungry for- for it..."

He didn't recognise himself in what he was saying, felt unmoored from reality. He quaked when he felt the clown's fingers angle deeper, its arm reaching downward. His cunt clenched, clit throbbing.

"Oh- Oh _god_ -"

"You've been dreaming of this," the clown told him, "You _want_ this."

Kade nearly sobbed.

"You dreamed of this."

"I don't- I can't-"

His shoulders were seized again, and this time, he was spun around to face the canvas entrance to the tent. It was closed over, but it flapped precariously, flashes of passing crowds visible. A palm pressed against the centre of his back, between his shoulder blades, making him lean forward slightly. Curls dangled against his forehead, a rising sensation of fierce emotion boiling inside him. He felt like something was wrong, but couldn't say what it was. He heard a noise from behind him, then the surprising sensation of open air as his pants were pulled entirely down, pooling around his feet. Something pressed against his wet hole. Something round and warm and thicker than fingers. It started to push inside, and only then did Kade realise what was happening.

"Wait-"

He tried to stand up straight and step away, but the clown held him in place, hand braced against the back of his neck.

"Stay still."

"No-"

"Shh. You don't want someone to _overhear_ , do you?"

"But that's- You should wear a condom-"

The grip on his neck tightened, and the clown chuckled. Kade felt scared.

"Please don't-"

"Quiet, boy."

Kade stood still as commanded, his knees wobbling, breathing heavily. He put a hand over his mouth to stifle himself as the cock moved deeper inside his cunt, breaching him in ways nobody else ever had. He felt so hot. Like he was burning up. He was hit by the hysterical urge to start laughing. None of this felt real, but equally, it was the most viscerally real thing that had ever been done to him. He was simultaneously absent from reality and more present than he had ever been. He felt his virginity being taken, a thick, long, curved cock sliding deep inside his body. He felt himself being raped.

Behind him, the clown gave an answering giggle, as if it sensed his maddened mirth. It leaned down, pressing itself against the boy's back, nudging deeper inside. It hugged Kade tight, humming happily against his cheek.

"Now you belong to _me_."

Kade tried to push away from the clown, ankles wobbly and unsteady, but couldn't manage to scramble out of its grip. He was crying, hands flailing now, penetrated so deep inside. He felt so full.

"I've- I've ch- changed my mind, please-"

"No such thing."

"Please, n-no, please- stop-"

"No."

"Take it- Take it out, stop-"

"No."

"Please-"

"Welcome," the clown growled, "to the circus."

With that, it started to thrust its hips. Kade immediately cried out, but the clown covered his mouth with a gloved hand, locking him in an unbreakable embrace. Kade sagged where he was being held, arms hanging limply, hands bouncing against his thighs as his body was violently rocked back and forth. He'd never been fucked before. The cock was slamming deep inside his body, colliding with a part of him he didn't even know existed.

"Mmm, mmm, mmmm," he groaned helplessly, muffled words interrupted by inward thrusts, drowned out by carnival music, "Mmm- mmmm!"

"Such a _good_ boy," the clown huffed, "So _tight_."

Kade truly tried not to make noise, tried to stop himself from moaning. The sounds he was making were so unfamiliar and broken. He just wanted this to stop.

"You humans always bend so _beautifully_."

Kade didn't know what the clown meant, he just knew that he didn't want anyone to see him like this. He could hear people walking by, not two steps away from where his virginity was being thoroughly stolen. It frightened him and turned him on. He felt like he was being consumed. Engulfed by the enormity of everything that was happening. He heard the scuffing of feet, the striding steps of strangers. He swallowed down his whimpers and was glad he was being held where he was bent over, otherwise he was liable to tip forward and sprawl out onto the path. He could feel something moving inside him, pushing inward and then sliding out again, and the knowledge that it was a cock made him quake.

"Mm- Mmmf," he managed to twist his head free from the clown's grip, "Wh- What are y- What are you doing to m-"

"Shh, shh. Let it in, let me in. It feels good, pretty boy. It feels good."

"I... Stop... St- _ah-_ Stop...!"

"Shhh, shhh. Do you want someone to see?"

"Stop, ah, ah, _stop,_ stop, stop it..."

The clown covered his mouth again. "Quiet."

As moments passed, his fear melted away, replaced by something otherworldly. The same sick fascination which he had first encountered at this circus, which had haunted his dreams, encompassed every facet of his being. Beneath the grip of the clown's fingers, he heard himself laughing. A muffled giggling, as a senseless thrill was propelled through him. He forgot about any doubts or worries. The call of the circus was hypnotic.

"Mmm... Mmm- mmm- mmmh-"

"That's it," the clown told him, cooing praises that made Kade so pleased, "That's it, give in. _Give in."_

The fucking continued, faster now, flesh sliding against flesh, everything wet and hot and visceral.

"Good boy. Good boy. Yes, yes, yes."

Within no time at all, Kade forgot his own name. His memories melted away, facepaint seeping into his skin like it belonged there, never to be scrubbed off or washed away. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, every exhalation heavy with a moan. The clown continued to fuck him, thrilled by his submission. It could feel Kade's soul slipping, melting into obscurity, something darker and inhuman taking him over.

"Yes, yes, yes," it whispered, "Yes, yes!"

The smaller clown, the neophyte who had once been called Kade, was squeezed tight by the arms of the larger being, crushed in a vice-like embrace. The breath left his body in a rush as the creature behind him slammed forward one last time, filling him with hot, white come. Marking his insides, claiming him. The smaller clown shivered, eyes rolling back, the transformation complete. The larger clown hammered the last of its release inside the boy, then swung him around, sending him sprawling in the centre of the tent. There, the new convert collapsed, gasping for air, spasming as he transformed into something new.

Cock hanging from its clown suit, the creature considered its work, the newest of its victims.

It was smiling, certain it had won.

***

The police arrived right before dawn, townspeople having fled, only a few stragglers sticking around to satisfy their grim curiosity.

White tents had been set up, bland beside gloriously striped canvas. People in plastic suits, faces covered and shoes concealed behind plastic, walked in and out of the crime scene with bags of evidence and giant cameras.

The inside of the tent was bathed in dark red, chunks of meat dripping from the fabric ceiling, vivid polka dots strewn about where fabric had been tossed. The detectives onsite felt sick, standing back to observe the carnage. They were seasoned voyeurs of death, but even they were shocked by this display. At the centre of it all was a body, sprawled like a puppet with its strings cut, limbs glistening wetly beneath the spotlights trained upon it. Its face appeared to be the only intact part, clown makeup untouched but for a few filaments of blood. The head looked surprised to be severed from its own body, eyes wide even in death. No weapon had been left behind, but it had likely been a blade, used with near-supernatural strength. Or at least the strength of a tweaker gone berserk.

One of the detectives, standing outside, felt his gut clench with the urge to vomit. He crushed the impulse down, turning his back on the scene for just a moment, breathing deeply. As had become his habit, he produced a mint from his pocket and swallowed it, rolling the fresh taste around on his tongue and trying not to think of copper. He looked out across the circus, saw his colleagues interviewing witnesses and stoically silent carnies. It seemed so wrong, the joyful spirit of a carnival slammed to a shuddering halt, crime scene tents erected, armed officers patrolling for a deranged murderer. He was certain this was the work of a serial killer, the first in a long line of executions. They would not catch the culprit. They would not succeed against this kind of force, this demented display of strength and sadism.

The detective saw something in the distance. At first he thought it was a white balloon, floating between two tents. He blinked hard, realising that his vision was blurred from panic and tears, the strong musk of human death clouding every aspect of his ability to function. He realised, then, that the pale oval was a face. It was a person, looking right at him.

A clown.

A clown with curly hair and a big smile. The detective thought its outfit may have been polka dotted too, but it was difficult to tell because the boy was coated with plentiful splashes of red, hardened and dried now. He saw the glint of a knife in the clown's hand. Not looking away from the clown, he fumbled for his partner, hand flapping against an elbow.

"Hey, hey, look at this. Do you- Do you fucking see this?"

His partner turned to look. But there was nothing there.

***

The clown strode away from the circus, at once standing still and walking, haunting the eye of a long-suffering detective even as he departed. Encouraging madness in the minds of all, slipping between human reality and the in-between flux of the eternal circus. He transcended the physical, was more than the clown who had transformed him so abruptly. The carnival had gambled on him, tried to convert him, but they had made a mistake. They had chosen the wrong target.

And now he had power.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed ;-)  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Here's a quick sexual health note. A lot of fantasy stories (including this one) depict spontaneous, un-lubricated sex as being without consequence or serious pain. But this is not realistic to the effects of Testosterone on the genitals. If you're AFAB, whether non-binary or trans male, you need to take care of your anatomy. Sex without appropriate loosening, lube, and foreplay can potentially be severely damaging. Please see [this article](https://www.sfaf.org/collections/beta/qa-gynecologic-and-vaginal-care-for-trans-men/) and [this page](https://transcare.ucsf.edu/guidelines/pain-transmen) for more information about atrophy when undergoing hormone replacement therapy. Please see [this post](https://ftmark.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/how-to-have-sex-with-a-transman/) and [this article](https://www.advocate.com/sexy-beast/2018/8/08/16-things-i-learned-having-sex-trans-men) for information about having sex with trans men. Lots of lube means lots of satisfaction, as dryness and tightness is a common side-effect of Testosterone. To any cis men who want to penetrate trans men during sex: take care not to assume that a trans man will want this (many of us don't wish to be penetrated), and don't hurt the guy if he does consent to being penetrated. It is very easy to damage the vaginal wall.


End file.
